Classic Poem

C ARM II. 3.

I N trouble keep your courage high
And calm, but yet in happier fate
Be not with rapture too elate —
For one day, Dellius, you must die.
Whether through dreary days you pine,
Or on the far sequestered grass
Luxurious holidays you pass
Quaffing your old Falernian wine:
I know the spot — by poplar pale
And lofty pines a friendly shade
With intertwining branches made;
And hard by struggles through the vale
The winding water: — there we'll set
Wines and rich perfumes; boys shall bring
Roses too briefly blossoming;
While Youth and Fortune smile, while yet
Their dark threads spin the sisters three.
Ah me! your parks, your pleasant home
Washed by the Tiber's tawny foam
You'll leave; and all your wealth shall be
But for your heir. If rich and one
Of Inachus' old line and name,
Or poor and basest born, the same
Your doom to Orcus pitying none.
To the grim ferry all must go;
Our lots are cast into one urn,
And soon or late comes out our turn
For endless banishment below.